The One Who Died Smiling
by teddylupin-snape
Summary: ::This was a cold world. Rays of light were slim. Positivity was sparse. Happiness was masked. Solitude was unsafe. Life was short. But if one gave up hope, there'd be no escaping. No ending this evil from engulfing the whole world.::


_"Hello, Minister! Did I mention I'm resigning?" _said Percy, while aiming a jinx at Thicknesse.

"_You're joking, Perce! You actually _are_ joking, Perce …. I don't think I've heard you joke since you were—"_

The world seemed to shatter. One moment, he's reminiscing on the past; the next, he's being blown off his feet by some powerful, unknown force. A thick layer of dust rises, and he coughs, trying to clear his airways. Fred thought he heard someone yell his name. He tries to respond, though he only manages a feeble whine. A body this weak can only live on for so long.

* * *

_And they all say_

That when you **die**

Your whole life f*l*a*s*h*e*s before

Your eyes.

* * *

He was five years old. Ron—the annoying little brother that he was—snuck into the broom shed one day. The younger boy had wanted to fly so badly! Ron put his teddy bear down on one of the benches, so that it could watch him fly. He took out Fred's toy broomstick, mounted it, and tried circling around the back garden. Fred and George were in their room. George just dared Fred to eat a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean that looked ominously like vomit. Fred backed up, trying to avoid the bean when he bumped against the window overlooking the garden. He looked down and saw Ron flying around on a toy broomstick—_his_ toy broomstick!

Fred ran outside, George at his heels. The twin was furious, marching towards his younger brother. Ron descended quickly, falling face-first over the front of the broomstick. He squealed and ran away from his older brother. Finding a haven on the bench with his teddy bear, he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping Fred and George would just disappear. They didn't.

"Ron! Why were you flying on my broom?" Fred demanded.

"I—I was just—" Ron started, but Fred wouldn't hear it. Next thing they knew, the teddy bear that Ron was clutching turned into a huge spider. Ron screamed, threw down the bear with a disgusted look, and ran inside, tears streaming down his face. "Mummy! Mummy! Fred—Fred turned—he turned Teddy into—into a—a spider!" he said between sobs.

"Fred, how could you do that?" his mother said, trying to hide the majority of her furor in the act of comforting her youngest son. "Go up to your room now, young man."

* * *

It was his eleventh birthday. Fred and George had woken up and were in the process of getting dressed when they heard their mother call from below, "Fred! George! Come down here, you've got something!"

'Could it be?' they thought. The twins raced down the stairs together, eager, identical grins on their faces.

When they reached the Burrow's kitchen, they saw their mother holding two identical envelopes; the same envelopes that Bill, Charlie, and Percy had received when they turned eleven. Their Hogwarts letters!

The two boys ripped open the enveloped and pulled out the parchment within. Fred's letter read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL_

_of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Weasley,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

.

Fred glanced over at his brother. Their letters were exactly the same. When Fred looked up, he noticed that his mother was crying. Fred and George went up together and hugged her.

'This was it! They were finally going off to Hogwarts!' thought Fred excitedly.

* * *

Fred and George's first year was in full swing. The pair happened upon a dungbomb, however. Fred and George had learned from their elder brothers that the caretaker, Argus Filch, was not one to cross. But they, being the mischievous twins that they were, took that as a challenge.

"Have you got it, George?" Fred asked in a whisper. They were hiding behind a tapestry in a crowded corridor.

"Yeah. Ready?" George asked.

Fred nodded. George flung the dungbomb into the corridor.

.

It seemed that Bill, Charlie, and Percy weren't lying about how strict Filch was. He had caught the boys in the act, and after threatening them with a variety of punishments, Fred passed George a look that was unnoticed by Filch. George nodded a fraction, dropping another dungbomb right in Filch's office.

Sure, Filch was furious once the ordeal was over, but the twins got something that they wouldn't trade ten detentions for: _The Marauder's Map_.

* * *

The summer before their sixth year, their father had gotten them tickets to see the Quidditch World Cup. The whole Weasley household was buzzing with conversation about the Cup for weeks on end.

"Ooh, I wonder who'll win!"

"It'll be the Irish, why wouldn't it be?"

"Umm, let me see… Because of Krum. Bulgaria's got this win in the bag."

"No, they haven't. Ireland will win, mark my words."

Finally, time came to actually _go_ to the Cup. All of the Weasleys, save for Molly; Harry; and Hermione made their way to the top of Stoatshead Hill, taking the Portkey to the match.

And of course, the people they'd meet at the top just had to be pretty-boy Diggory, the Quidditch _star_ and his father. The rest of his family greeted them, though Fred and George couldn't quite find something to say that would be appropriate in this conversation, so they left it at that.

.

The match itself was truly spectacular. True to the twins' bet against Bagman (which was a stretch to start), Ireland took home the win, even though Viktor Krum, Bulgaria's seeker, caught the Snitch.

It was the after-events that were the most shocking, however. Apparently, it seemed, Voldemort's supporters could not simply watch a stimulating game of Quidditch. They _had_ to cause an uproar, attacking a Muggle family in the process.

"D'you think there'll be a war, George?" asked Fred tersely.

"I sure do hope not. None of us can be sure, though, can we? I mean, we just have to be prepared. If a war _does _come, we just have to be ready, right?" George responded.

Fred sighed.

* * *

It was their seventh year—well; technically, their seventh year had reached an end. The twins flew their broomsticks all the way past Hogwarts' gates into Hogsmeade. From there, they Apparated to Diagon Alley, the empty storefront of the new Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes faced them.

The two of them simply stood there, admiring their work thus far. All they had put towards this business, it was all paying off. The feeling of pride whooshed in; shortly followed by the thought of how much work they would need to do to keep up with such a shop. Fred and George were up for it, though. They were determined. They wouldn't throw away everything they had accomplished so far for anything.

Fred put the key into the lock—yes, he could have done it by magic, but he _wanted_ to open the lock manually—and turned it. He heard the satisfying click, and swung the door open.

"Well, better get down to work now, eh?"

* * *

Business was booming. Products were selling out fast; Fred and George had trouble meeting demands sometimes.

One day, soon before Hogwarts was to start, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry stopped by, along with their parents. Fred showed Harry around the crowded shop, leading him to the back. There, they met George, and the twins showed Harry some of their more serious products.

They tried to convince Harry _not to pay here_. But of course, humble, modest Harry Potter would deny that offer. If it wasn't for Harry, the shop wouldn't have opened. George reminded him of this.

This got Fred thinking. If Harry hadn't given them all that gold because of the Tournament, how would they ever have gotten the store running? There was no way their family would be able to help them out with the financial issue, and sure, they had orders coming in via owl, but that wasn't enough to start a store.

Fred and George were simply blessed that Harry and Ron had become friends, all those years ago.

* * *

_And they all say_

That when you **die**

Your whole life f*l*a*s*h*e*s before

Your eyes.

.

_Memories blur together_

But it is the **remembering**

That makes it all so sad

* * *

Now here he was—_dying_. There was nothing he could do to stop death. No one could stop it, not even with magic.

Fred Weasley lived in a cruel world. It was full of evil, self-centred people who took pride and joy in murder. _This isn't right._

This world was fuelled on anger.

* * *

**_A. n. g. e. r._**

The emotion that brings out

The **WORST** in _people._

All these people, _plagued_ by anger

Trying f*r*u*i*t*l*e*s*s*l*y

To bring themselves

_GLORY_

_Honour_

**_Pride_**

Expressing their inner emotions

Too w-e-a-k to hold it in any longer

* * *

This was a cold world. Rays of light were slim. Positivity was sparse. Happiness was masked. Solitude was unsafe. Life was short.

But if one gave up hope, there'd be no escaping. No ending this evil from engulfing the whole world.

And though one would be physically missing, _forever_, the Weasley family could move on. For Fred. Because if they live in darkness from now on, they will tarnish the memories of the brother who died smiling.

* * *

xox

* * *

**for:**

**Big/Lil' Sis Team Prompt Competition: Round One-Prompts used: Fred Weasley, cold, "Do you think anger is a sincere emotion or the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain?" -Andrea Gibson**

**My partner for this wonderful competition is toujours belle, who wrote a story that connects to this one, so go check out her wonderful work, too!**

**Please leave a review :)**


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